Alistair's Wedding
by Zeeji
Summary: Alistair was convinced to marry Anora.  How will he make it through the day?


**_My muse seems to have taken a leave of absence recently. I apologize to my readers of "Seeing Beyond" for the unexpected hiatus, but I will be back writing it soon. This is a one shot story written in response to a Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age prompt. I hope you find it amusing!_**

He paced alongside the windows in the Chantry's library as he wasted time before the ceremony. It was his wedding day. Nothing could settle his nerves.

"_Maker, how did I ever let Aeden and Eamon talk me into this_?" he thought to himself as he continued to pace, back and forth, while wringing his hands. "_I know they said it would solidify my standing as the King of Ferelden, but to marry __**her**__? She's a walking ice statue! I don't know why my brother ever married her in the first place. What in the Maker's name have I gotten myself into_?"

A soft knock at the door preceded Aeden's entrance to the room. "Are you ready, Alistair? Anora has arrived and it's time to take our places."

"No, I'm not ready. I'll never be ready! Why did I let you talk me into marrying that shrew? It will be a miracle if I survive the night." He looked down at the golden brocade doublet he was wearing. "And why am I wearing something so… foppish. I look like a blasted Orlesian courtesan!"

Alistair's face was pale, and his eyes wide in fright. Aeden walked to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"You look fine, Alistair. That style of doublet has been fashionable here in Ferelden for years. You look no more Orlesian than I do."

Alistair glared at his friend. "That coming from the man wearing the Grey Warden Commander armor. Why can't I wear armor? I would feel much more comfortable."

Aeden chuckled. "I doubt Anora would appreciated having to bend around your breastplate for her wedding kiss. You'd end up giving her a black eye… or worse!"

Alistair sighed. "Perhaps that would be an improvement. Maker, Aeden, why must I marry _her_? There must be some other noble woman in Ferelden who would be a proper wife. Couldn't we just go out there and announce, 'Sorry everyone, there's been a huge mistake. They'll be no wedding today. Fooled you, didn't we?'"

Aeden looked at his friend sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Alistair, but you know it's for your own good. You need her to gain the support of her followers and give you a more substantial hold on your crown. It's for the good of Ferelden. If there were any other way…"

Alistair held his hand up in defeat. "I know… I know. And I know that I must do my duty and marry the witch. I just wish that I could marry someone who at least didn't despise me." He smoothed his doublet and checked his hair one more time in the mirror. "Well, let's go. It's time for me to lose myself in my sham of a marriage."

Walking out to the front of the sanctuary felt like a funeral procession. Alistair couldn't help but look around for an escape route, but there were far too many people in the aisles to permit his sprint for freedom. Sighing again, he looked sadly to the outer doorway. He could see Anora's silhouette against the bright sunlight.

"_She even looks like ice in the sun's rays. How lucky am I?"_ Alistair shivered involuntarily as she started her procession up the center aisle.

Alistair looked around at the faces of the many guests. Eamon sat in the front row with Isolde on his left and Teagan on his right. Alistair felt nauseated as he saw the look of self-satisfaction on his former guardian's face. He knew that Eamon wanted a position of influence and power at the Landsmeet, but seeing that look – it was almost as if Eamon had finally succeeded in completing some sort of grandiose scheme. The last thing that Alistair wanted to be was someone else's pawn, to be played with at their whim.

Fergus Cousland sat several rows behind Eamon. He seemed to have sympathy for the predicament Alistair found himself in. As Alistair caught his eye, the new Teyrn of Highever gave him a nod of acknowledgement. That simple gesture communicated Fergus' own sorrow as he remembered the family he had lost, but it also tried to support his new found friend as he entered a marriage he also felt was ill advised.

There were other friends attending the ceremony. Most of his companions from his travels were there. Zevran grinned impishly. Alistair just _knew_ the elf was having thoughts that would make him blush if he could hear them. Leliana and Wynne sat together, smiling the way women always seem to smile at a wedding. Oghren stood next to the door, swaying slightly. Of course the dwarf was drunk – was there any other state of existence for him? At least that made Alistair chuckle for a moment.

Anora reached the front of the church and looked coldly at her groom. Her eyes reminded him so much of Loghain. It was the intensity of that stare that was startlingly similar to her father. As Alistair looked at her, he realized that although she was, indeed, beautiful, that icy stare made her unapproachable. She looked at him, and as her eyes appraised him she frowned. Obviously, she was no happier about this marriage than he was.

The ceremony seemed interminable as Alistair stood next to his bride. After what seemed to be an eternity, the Reverend Mother told him to kiss his bride. As he moved his face toward Anora, she quickly turned her head to the side so he would be forced to kiss her cheek. "_Sorry, sweetheart, that simply won't do,_" he thought to himself. Alistair raised his hand to her cheek and gently, yet firmly, held her face in place to kiss her fully on the lips.

Anora was furious; he could see it in her eyes. As he released the kiss, he smiled at her as warmly as he could as he took her hand in his own to lead her out of the Chantry to their waiting carriage. Anora's face retained its cold demeanor the entire distance while Alistair smiled broadly. When they arrived at the carriage, Alistair carefully helped her up into the compartment. Once she was settled on the seat, he climbed up to join her.

Immediately after he sat next to her, she slapped him.

His hand quickly rubbed the assaulted cheek. "Ow! What was that for?"

She glared at him. The intensity of her stare seemed to burn into him. "How dare you force yourself on me, especially in front of all of our constituents? You will not do that again, do you understand? Not only did you make me look like a fool, you have ruined my makeup!"

Alistair sat up straight and looked at her with his own glare. "No, I think it is time that you started to understand a few things. First and foremost, I am the King of Ferelden, not you. You have been made my wife simply to make things easier for me. You will perform your duties as I see fit, not the other way around. As for our wedding kiss, it is a Ferelden tradition for the bride and groom to kiss on the mouth, not the cheek. Had I allowed you to get away with that, you would have diminished my standing in the eyes of _my_ people. I will not permit you to interfere with my reign as king. Not in any way."

"You may have been my brother's wife, and he may have allowed you to act as the ruler, but that will not be the case in this marriage. You are here for one reason – to appease the people who support you. Your job is to support me, and to provide an heir. I believe there should be a finite amount of time for that to happen, so we will discuss what would be appropriate as soon as it would be seemly for me to meet with my advisors after our honeymoon. Let me make myself perfectly clear, Anora; I have no problem finding a reason to set you aside and find another wife. Give me a reason, my dear, and you will be out of my life permanently. Do you have any questions?"

Anora's eyes flashed with anger. No one had ever spoken to her in such a fashion in her life, and she wasn't quite certain how to respond. "You are not a gentleman like your brother. He would never be so… abrupt with me."

Alistair raised his eyebrow as he responded angrily. "No, I am not my brother. As far as being a gentleman is concerned, being a gentleman does not mean a man has to allow himself to be stepped or spat upon. Cailan was a fool to allow you to walk all over him, and I will not make the same mistake. Your place is either standing beside me in support, or gone from my sight. When I say gone, I mean truly gone. Follow my lead, or be removed from my party. Got it?"

Anora seemed to visibly shrink as she contemplated her options. It was obvious this man was not as ignorant as he seemed. "I… understand."

"Good." Alistair smiled at her, teasingly. "For now, we will attend our reception with our guests. You will dance with me and pretend that you are having the time of your life. Who knows, maybe you will actually find that you are, indeed, enjoying yourself!" His eyes flashed mischievously. "As far as your makeup is concerned, I believe it's about time you stopped being so perfect all the time. I believe the people will appreciate you more if you were more like them, instead of seeming to be so far above them."

With that, he reached over and mussed up her hair, pulling out the hairpins that had been so carefully placed in her buns. Her hair fell in two long braids with hairs escaping around her face. As he looked at her horrified face, he bellowed in laughter. _"Priceless!" _he thought to himself as his bride tried to collect the hairpins that were now strewn about the riding compartment.

Alistair relaxed as the carriage traveled the rest of the way to the palace. He had won this battle with Anora. Although it was still sickening to think of the bitch as his wife, somehow he felt it wouldn't be all bad. She needed to learn that she no longer held the power of the crown. Anora had to bend to Alistair's ways, one way or another.

Anora did not look happy in the least.

"You know, you should wear your hair down. It would make you look friendlier. I think the people would like you better." Again he reached over to her and pulled out the ribbons that tied the ends of her braids. After running his fingers through her hair to release the braids, he looked at her approvingly. "You look beautiful now, not just pretty. It's about time that you allowed yourself to be human."

Anora's response was something that resembled a growl. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked out the window opposite her husband. Alistair could tell that she was planning her revenge, but he would simply have to stay a step ahead of her.

The carriage stopped in front of the palace, and Alistair jumped out. Gallantly, he held his hand out to his bride to assist her. "Time to smile, _dearest_. We wouldn't want our people to think you aren't enjoying yourself, do we?" He smiled sweetly at her as he winked.

Anora looked up at him and forced a smile.

"That's it; now keep that up for the next several hours and everything will be just peachy!" Alistair took her hand to lead her into the reception. He realized that she was more afraid of this marriage than he was, and somehow he would survive it. Not that he had a choice, but for the good of his country he would find a way.


End file.
